The Nightmare
by I'm a Dinosaur so like rawr
Summary: It's a oneshot, not really a popular type of love story. Marcus suffers from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and still has recurring nightmares. I didn't give much detail about the wife because she wasn't as important. It starts off at the Sandbar map from Gears of War 3. I own nothing but my OCs. Try it. Leave a review, tell me how good or bad it is. NOT CENTERED AROUND WIFE/MARCUS


**A/N: I got bored. Here's what I came up with as a oneshot. He did not marry Anya, he married my OC which I was too lazy to describe. Let me summarize that she is a Sergeant, Hispanic, and very badass. Wanna read more about her? Go check out my other story, if not, just use your imagination. I'm sure you can do it. I have faith in you my readers. Anyways. Enjoy I guess.**

He threw the empty magazine off to the side and immediately shoved another into his lancer. The locust would spring up from the ground with a trail of debris and sand shooting up behind them. Marcus looked over at his squad, all dead with bullets either through their eyes or heads. Remorse crawled through his veins as he witnessed his fallen brother's, Dom, eyes being gouged out by wretches.

Anger consumed him as he rose from the cement and sprayed bullets through as many heads as he could. Six out of the several thousands fell with the aroma of decaying tissue slowly filling his nose. Soon they began slithering out of the water and falling in front of him from the tree tops. Bullets grazed his arms; he didn't care.

He managed to snatch the COG tags of his fallen comrades and retreated to the dilapidated fortress where he would collect his thoughts for a second. The sand seemed so comforting as bombs exploded next to his ear, shocking and harming his ear drum. Blood trickled from his ear as he lay his head down. He was done, this was it. He wasn't giving up, he was accepting his faith.

No clips left with an empty one in his lancer. Snub pistol...empty, gnasher...empty, any form of explosive...all gone. There was nothing left to do. His lancer had run out of gas for the chainsaw bayonet, there were thousands of grubs coming ashore of the sandbar, coming in from all sides and angles. There was no chance of survival...Marcus Fenix was going to die. At the hands of a grub nonetheless.

He closed his eyes as a grenadier came from the cave behind the fortress and pulled the trigger right in his face.

Marcus woke up in a cold sweat, hyperventilating and panicking. The burly man turned only to see his wife, a fellow gear and now nurse, gone from her side of their marital bed. He sat up and wiped off the sweat with the cheap 700 count thread sheets and sat there with his breathing exercises.

"God, what the fuck?" He whispered trying to calm his nerves. The ex-sergeant turned on the bedside lamp and reached for his cellular device on the bedside table. "Two missed calls from 'Babe'," he said, "Fuck, she's not on her break yet." He ran his hand through the buzz cut he called a hairstyle and leaned onto the backboard of the bed. Slower and deeper breaths, inhale, exhale...inhale...exhale...inhale. He held his tongue. Who can he talk to? Dom was working, Cole and Baird were asleep. His wife was at work, who could he call at this hour?

He turned on the TV and immediately lowered the volume knowing the girls were asleep down the hall. Futurama was on. He didn't know why but he had a connection with Bender. Something about him just made him very relatable. It could be the fact that mobs of women would throw themselves at Delta squad not only for being so strong and protective after the war.

He recalled their final day as a squad, that day the gears would come home and finally be paid for their service with legal tender. He remembered how women would force each other onto the trains just to get a glimpse of the heroes that survived. It was ridiculous how grown women would at like teenage girls at a boy band concert; start-struck, vicious, and ready to run down anyone who got into their way. The rest was just a blur.

A bunch of paid programming came on as the clock read 3:30 A.M., "She's almost done with her shift, she'll be pissed if I'm not asleep." He went back under the covers and made one more attempt to go to sleep.

Marcus tossed and turned in the springy mattress. In defeat, he laid on his back staring at the plastered ceiling. His thoughts wandered in and out from the atrocious gory horrors of war and the life he left in the past to his awkwardly peaceful life he has now. How quickly life could resume to "normal" standards.

The dark shadows that crept along the walls would shift with the lunar pattern as the night progressed. He let out a soft sigh and shifted again.

What felt like hours passed, then the door slowly creaked open. Small black figures quietly snuck into the room.

Marcus sat up and growled, "What now?" Two tiny shadows appeared before him. Was his mind playing tricks, or was this really happening? What mystic being could possibly come to life after everything.

"Daddy?" One of them asked. His nerves calmed, "We had nightmares."

He turned on the bedside lamp and exhaled briefly as the two little girls held each others hand with their heads low. Some regret formed and he wanted to make them feel better, "It's okay."

The smaller child spoke with her voice slightly breaking, "Daddy, can we sweep wif you?" Marcus did not hesitate and patted the empty space next to him. The two girls ran onto the bed and hugged each other before he wrapped his huge beefy arms around them. The big burly man closed his eyes and let the dream consume him.

Thirty minutes later, he was awaken to realize he was at the edge of the bed. His daughters were in the middle starting to spill over onto his side.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath as he tipped over and fell onto the floor. Drowsy from the lack of sleep, he grabbed a pillow from the other side of the bed and headed to the girls' room to sleep. He settled into the twin sized bed and let sleep consume him again. Finally, peace, sleep.

The little girls woke up realizing their daddy wasn't there. The room looked scary in the moonlight because of the way the trees outside aligned. It was like big creepy stalks were going to sneak in and take them away. The older girl grabbed her little sister and ran down the hall into their room. They found their daddy snoring louder than any bear known to man and falling out of their tiny bed.

His limbs dangled off of the twin bed of the smaller child. They didn't want to wake up their father again but the fear had encompassed their thoughts. The older girl slightly shook her big beefy father trying to gently wake him. He just wanted peace from his nightmares. The girls stared at him, wide-eyed.

"Daddy?"

"Yes?" He asked in half a dream state.

"We had nightmares again..." The older girl trailed off. He didn't hesitate to pull both of them onto his body just so he could sleep again. The little girls grabbed as many stuffed animals from underneath their father and curled up next to him. This was all he could have wanted to escape from his horrible flashbacks...to protect the little girls he worked really hard to create. This was why he lived.


End file.
